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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816883">Don't Know if I'll Make it ('Cause I'm Falling Under)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecAcid/pseuds/MalecAcid'>MalecAcid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Julie and The Phantoms (TV 2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alex Mercer Has Anxiety (Julie and the Phantoms), Alex Mercer Has Bad Parents (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex Mercer Needs a Hug (Julie and The Phantoms), Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Gen, Good Friend Julie Molina, Gore, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Luke Patterson Needs a Hug (Julie and The Phantoms), No beta we die like Sunset Curve, Panic Attacks, References to Depression, Reggie Peters Has Bad Parents (Julie and The Phantoms), Reggie Peters Needs a Hug (Julie and The Phantoms), Self-Harm</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 19:27:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,225</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29816883</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MalecAcid/pseuds/MalecAcid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The thoughts that he had weren't like Luke's. They weren't thoughts from an unknown place, thoughts that came out of nowhere and made him feel guilty. And they weren't like Alex's. They weren't a swirling storm of anxiety that destroyed everything it could see. His thoughts were just <i>there</i>, constantly there, weighing heavily on his bones and making it hard to just exist. </p><p>OR</p><p>Each of the boys have their own struggles with what's going on inside their heads.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alex Mercer &amp; Julie Molina &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters, Alex Mercer &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex Mercer &amp; Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms), Bobby | Trevor Wilson &amp; Alex Mercer &amp; Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters, Julie Molina &amp; Luke Patterson, Luke Patterson &amp; Reggie Peters (Julie and The Phantoms)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>70</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Luke</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>sO before I get into anything else let's get into the warnings for this chapter PLEASE READ THE BEGINNING NOTES OF EVERY CHAPTER BECAUSE ALL OF THEM WILL HAVE WARNINGS SPECIFIC TO THAT CHAPTER</p><p>‼️Warning for severe intrusive thoughts, references to gore, blood, self harm as a result of trying to get rid of intrusive thoughts, referenced animal abuse (it's only mentioned in one line of the fic and doesn't actually happen), weapons (knives + a hammer), mention of getting injured, injuring people, and injuring oneself‼️</p><p>That's a lot kfmxkdksk and some of the things are minor but please look out for them and please be careful while reading</p><p>The title is from finally free bc that song is sO GOOD and I am going to get every title I can from this soundtrack</p><p>(Sidenote: this is how I have chosen to display intrusive thoughts. Everyone who has them experiences them differently and this is not the only way people have and/or react to intrusive thoughts) </p><p>Basically, I'm projecting JFKZKDKZKDKS but yea!! Anyways, I hope you like!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There were times when Luke felt as if his thoughts just… weren't his. </p><p>They felt like something separate, something that wasn't a part of him. </p><p>Some days, it would be small, hard to tell whether or not they really were his thoughts. The voice in his head would say to throw his pencil across the room, or to smash his guitar when he got a note wrong. </p><p>It was hard to tell if those small things were really him telling himself to do that. Hard to tell whether or not he created that thought for himself or if it just came out of nowhere. </p><p>Other days, he felt as if his own brain was an alien to him. </p><p>The first time he could remember it happening was an early band practice when he and the boys were only fifteen. </p><p>It had been a normal day. They were just playing their music as they always did, every once in a while pausing to get a snack or just to banter back and forth. </p><p>He hadn't felt off in any way before it happened. He had just been sitting with his bandmates, dozing off as they argued about their favorite movies and books, when the thought came so suddenly it had him straightening his back from where it was slumped and his mouth dropping open while his eyes widened with shock. </p><p>There had been a hammer sitting innocently on the table beside him from earlier when Bobby fixed something in the garage that Luke couldn't remember. It had just been <i>sitting</i> there. Luke hadn't even thought about it, hadn't even looked at it for more than a second before the thought came. </p><p>
  <i>Grab it. Smash their heads in. Kill them.</i>
</p><p>The thought only came once, speaking out to him. It didn't repeat itself, only let Luke sit in surprised horror. </p><p>He would never, <i>ever</i>, think anything like that. And yet, he just had. </p><p>When the thought came, his hand ached from where it was under his chin, every cell in it feeling as if it was begging him to grab the hammer before he moved it to cover his mouth. </p><p>The guys had immediately noticed his change in posture, their conversation coming to a pause as they turned to look at him in confusion. </p><p>Though he wanted to, he couldn't seem to remove his hand from his mouth and make himself look fine, make himself look as if he hadn't just thought about the deaths of three of his favorite people. </p><p>"Luke?" Alex said nervously after a few seconds of silence. "Are you okay?" </p><p>Alex's voice seemed to snap him out of it, and he managed to remove his hand from where it was covering his mouth, putting it in his lap and clutching tightly at his jeans. </p><p>"Uh, yeah, yeah I'm fine," He said, giving him a small smile and trying not to look any of them in the eyes. He couldn't, not after what he just thought of. </p><p>"You sure?" Bobby spoke up from beside him, and he nodded quickly, standing up and grabbing his guitar without another word. </p><p>They seemed to get the idea and moved silently to their own instruments, attempting to act as if nothing happened, though Luke could see each of them glancing at him every few minutes. </p><p>He focused on the music, on getting every single note right, and slowly, the shock faded away. </p><p>That wasn't the only time that it had happened, of course. </p><p>The next time that a thought that was as extreme as the one before came a week later when Luke had been chopping up the carrots for his mom's vegetable soup. </p><p>He had just been humming, swaying very slightly back and forth as he chopped with the sharp knife when it had happened. </p><p>
  <i>Drive it through your stomach.</i>
</p><p>He dropped the knife, and it clattered loudly when it hit the cutting board. </p><p>Unlike the week before, this thought didn't stop. It just kept going, repeating itself in different ways as his hands and stomach ached and his eyes stared. </p><p>
  <i>Grab it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Make yourself bleed.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Do it.</i>
</p><p>They just wouldn't <i>stop</i>. He had brought his hands together, intertwining his fingers and squeezing tightly as he tried to think about something else to drown out the thoughts that weren't his. <i>They weren't his.</i></p><p>"Are you almost done?" His mom called out from the living room, and he snapped his head up to look in the direction of where her voice came from as the thoughts came to a sudden stop. </p><p>"Y-yeah," He managed to get out, moving a shaky hand to pick the knife up to continue chopping at the carrots. </p><p>He thought about that for a long time after it had happened. </p><p>He didn't know why he would ever think something like that. He never had any urge to hurt himself or his friends before, and never thought about it either. So <i>why</i>. Why was this happening? </p><p>He hated it. He hated it so much. It was scary, so, <i>so</i> scary. </p><p>Luke didn't want to think about hurting himself. He didn't want to think about hurting his friends. He didn't want those thoughts. He didn't <i>think</i> those thoughts. They weren't his. They couldn't be. </p><p>After that second incident, the unwanted thoughts just started to come more and more frequently. </p><p>Sometimes they would start up when he watched a movie with violence, or saw a hammer or a knife, but most of the time they would just happen at random. Little thoughts of injury and pain turning into much larger thoughts that felt as if they would never stop. </p><p>It was hard to shake off the guilt of them, especially when they were of hurting his friends or family. Any time those thoughts came, he had a hard time looking at the people during or after they happened. He felt <i>dangerous</i>, felt like he was a danger to the people that he loved. </p><p>He would never hurt them. No matter what. But the thoughts that weren't his said otherwise, and he couldn't help but think that maybe one day, those thoughts would overtake and control him. Become him. </p><p>The worst ones were the ones that took every distraction he tried to use to get rid of them and made it into something evil. </p><p>If a thought of injuring himself appeared, he would try and think about something else, like puppies. But those thoughts, the ones that sucked everything in and used it to their advantage like a black hole, the bad thoughts, took what he thought was a good distraction and turned it against him. If he tried to think about puppies to drown them out, the thoughts that weren't his would think about hurting those puppies. If he tried to watch TV as a distraction, the thoughts told him to smash it, to break it into pieces. </p><p>He hated it so much. He just wanted them to <i>stop.</i> But as time went on, it only felt like they got worse and worse. </p><p>Luke had just turned sixteen the first time the thoughts were joined by flashes of images. </p><p>Knowing that there was leftover cake from his birthday the week before, he snuck to the kitchen in the middle of the night, opening the fridge and pulling it out. </p><p>He grabbed a knife from the drawer, already anticipating the thoughts to come as they always had for months, but before he could move to cut the cake, images and thoughts began to flash in his head. </p><p><i>Drag it across your stomach.</i> </p><p>
  <i>Let your guts spill onto the floor.</i>
</p><p>The thoughts themselves weren't unexpected, but the images that came with them were. Images of him actually doing it, actually following through with the action, and he felt his stomach tighten as he ran as quietly as he could to the bathroom, throwing up what he had for dinner when the images finally stopped flashing. </p><p>After sitting on the cold tile of the bathroom floor for a moment, he eventually managed to stand and trudged to his room, collapsing onto his bed and burying his head into a pillow. </p><p>The images looked so <i>real</i>. They <i>felt</i> real. </p><p>He was so exhausted. Some days it felt like his head was screaming at him, the thoughts ringing in his ears, a constant thing, never stopping. </p><p>It was rare that he went a day without getting at least a few thoughts, but when he did get a day, he cherished it, so, so happy that his head had finally decided to give him a break until he woke up that next morning. </p><p>He and the boys had been messing around at a kid's playground when Luke figured out how to stop the thoughts. </p><p>They had just been running around the old and abandoned place, no kids in sight as they hung out, when Luke wandered off from the group. </p><p>He ended up coming across a broken pole on the playground set, the rusted metal sharp where it had been bent. </p><p>The thoughts immediately started rushing in at the sight. </p><p>
  <i>Touch it.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Cut your hand.</i>
</p><p>They repeated themselves over and over again, and Luke was so tired and so exhausted and he stepped forward, dragging the palm of his hand against the sharpest piece. </p><p>He hissed when it cut into him, giving him a quick spark of pain before starting to burn. He quickly moved to turn his palm towards his face, wincing at the large cut across it that was bleeding heavily. </p><p>Though his hand hurt and started to drip blood all over his brand new shoes, there was one thing that he noticed, one thing that was gone. </p><p>The thoughts. They had stopped. </p><p>Before he could do or realize anything else, Reggie turned past the playground set, calling out his name in a cheerful Reggie way. </p><p>"Luke! We've been looking-" He paused when he saw the blood dripping down his hand, walking quickly forward. "You're bleeding?" He grabbed his wrist to get a closer look, and Luke winced as he poked around the edges of the cut as if he actually knew what he was doing. </p><p>Bobby and Alex walked closer before he could say anything else, and Bobby raised his eyebrows at the sight while Alex stepped forward, asking a quick and nervous "What happened?" while he fussed over his hand with Reggie. </p><p>"I… I uh, I tripped and hit it against the broken pole," He said, and Bobby gave him an unsure look, but Alex and Reggie were too busy looking at his hand to notice his stuttering. </p><p>Though Alex and Reggie wouldn't stop worrying about his hand, and all Bobby did for weeks after the incident was <i>look</i> at him, he couldn't help but feel relieved after he had done it. For once, his head was <i>quiet</i>. For once, thoughts that weren't his took a break in screaming at him, leaving him alone for a while after he had completed their evil deed. </p><p>Though the silence had been great, it only lasted a few hours before another thought appeared, and his hand had hurt for so long afterwards. There were times when the thoughts of doing harm to himself got so loud that he wondered if it was worth it. Worth it to exchange a little bit of blood and a little bit of pain just for some peace and quiet.</p><p>He never did it again after that time, though, but the scar that had been imprinted onto his palm after that day never faded. </p><p>Whenever they died, it had taken a while for one of those thoughts to pop up in Luke's head. </p><p>The dark room that they had been in for an hour, or twenty five years depending on how you looked at it, felt numb. It was hard for Luke to conjure up his own thoughts in there, let alone a thought that wasn't his. </p><p>When they came back as ghosts, it had been a week without any thoughts like the ones that he had when he was alive, and though he was relieved, he couldn't help but feel a bit wary as well. </p><p>He refused to have hope that they would go away completely, too scared that they would come back at random. </p><p>And he had been right. Two weeks into being ghosts, the thoughts had come back at full force, bringing the awful and vivid images with them. </p><p>Even though he tried to keep all hope of them going away down, he couldn't help the little bit that rose up in the weeks that were ultimately crushed by the waves of thoughts that didn't belong to him and yet decided to take up residence in his brain. </p><p>Eventually, a few weeks after the night at the Orpheum, he decided to talk to Julie about it. He didn't know why. He thinks that he was just ready to get so many years of pain off of his chest. </p><p>They had all been sleeping in the garage that night, and Julie and Luke were the only ones awake, Reggie and Alex snoring into each other's shoulders while they talked quietly under their breath as to not wake them. </p><p>They had gone silent for only a moment before Luke spoke up. He didn't know why he did it, didn't even know he was going to before the words spilled out of his mouth. </p><p>"Do you ever have thoughts that aren't yours?" He blurted out, looking away sheepishly when she tilted her head at him. </p><p>"What do you mean? Like intrusive thoughts?" </p><p>"Uh, I would probably agree if I knew what those were," He said, rubbing the back of his head. </p><p>"They're basically what you just said, thoughts that aren't really yours. Most people get them actually," She said, and his head shot up. </p><p>"Really?" He asked disbelievingly, and she huffed a small laugh and nodded. </p><p>"Yeah, why do you ask?" </p><p>He froze. "Uh, no reason?" He said, a tilt to the end of his sentence as if he was asking a question as he glanced at his scarred palm, and she gave him a disbelieving look of her own, making him sigh. "I guess… maybe I have those." </p><p>She looked a little bit sad at that, but her eyes softened slightly. "Well, it's just important to remember that they're not really your thoughts, and they don't make you a bad person," She said, and Luke breathed out a large breath of air. He wondered if she could read his mind. </p><p>"And," She started again, "If they ever feel like they get to be too much, you can always tell me or talk about them if you want. I know the guys wouldn't mind either," She tilted her head to where they were still snoring, and Luke shrugged, making her glare. "I'm serious. We're here for you, you can talk to us."</p><p>He stared at her for a second as if he was trying to find something that would tell him she was lying, before he sighed for the second time that night, whispering a quiet "okay." </p><p>She gave him a small genuine smile, and he smiled back, moving to swing his legs to lay on top of the boys laps and burying his head into the couch. </p><p>He always knew that he wasn't alone, knew that he had the boys, had his family, and then had Julie. But it was a different thing, being told, being so obviously cared about. </p><p>He thinks that he likes it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Alex</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>‼️Warnings for this chapter are implied child abuse, not so great and homophobic parents  panic attacks and anxious thoughts‼️</p><p>Hope you like!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Alex, not unlike Luke, had kind of a complicated relationship with his thoughts. </p><p>Other than on the rare occasion, they were all his own. He didn't have unwanted thoughts of hurting himself or others, didn't have things he didn't conjure up on his own pop into his brain, but there were times that he definitely did not like what was going up there in his head. </p><p>For as long as he could remember, he was rarely ever completely calm. There was almost always a storm swirling around in his thoughts, questioning <i>why</i> and asking <i>what if</i> and thinking <i>bad, bad, this is bad.</i></p><p>Ever since he was a kid this storm has existed in his mind, never stopping it's destructive path. There were times when the storm was calmer than usual, but what came after the calm moments always seemed to be the worst. </p><p>Alex would just be sitting with the boys, or watching TV, or doing anything, and the storm would come, making it so much harder to focus on the fun he was having with his friends. The storm demanded to be looked at, to be viewed, and he was unable to say no, forced to look at and acknowledge the thoughts. </p><p>The worst the storm had ever gotten was when he first came out to his parents, and he had to say, it wasn't the first time that the thoughts of worry had been right to do so. </p><p><i>Don't</i>, his head had said as he started to walk towards the living room where his parents were watching a movie. </p><p><i>Stop. Danger</i>. </p><p><i>Don't</i>. </p><p>It was so hard not to give in to that little voice, so hard to not turn around and go back to his room. But he managed to, and he never regretted anything more as they yelled at him, looking at him as if they couldn't even stand him. </p><p><i>Ha</i>, the voice seemed to say as he wiped the tears off of his cheeks and packed his backpack with as many clothes as he could fit, prepared to go to the studio for the next few nights. Or forever. He hadn't decided. <i>I told you.</i></p><p>The boys hadn't really questioned it too much when they saw him asleep on the garage couch that next day and said nothing, only giving him a tighter squeeze when they hugged or patting his shoulder more often than usual. </p><p>No matter what situation he was going into, whether it was a big performance or one at a book club, talking to a new person or someone he had known for a while, walking down a street he didn't know or a street he did, his thoughts always screamed at him, warning him. </p><p><i>Danger,</i> they would say. <i>Leave.</i></p><p>The only time his thoughts ever seemed to calm down was when he was with the boys or only focusing on his drums. When he was with the boys, even the little voice in his head felt safe enough to quiet down for a few hours, and when he was drumming, every other thought, even the nervous ones he would have before a performance or practice, just faded away. </p><p>Most of the time, Alex was able to push past the thoughts and just did what he needed to do. They were almost always there, a tingling in the back of his head, constantly making him a little uncomfortable, or a little nervous, but he was able to push past it. Most of the time. </p><p>There were, of course, times when he just couldn't do that. Those days the storm was all consuming, leaving no room for any other thoughts. When the storm finally left or calmed down on those days, it always left him breathless and gasping for air. </p><p>The first time that that had happened, he was sixteen and shaking, heading to the garage for rehearsal an hour later than he was supposed to. </p><p>The day had started off as normal, and the thoughts had started that way too, just a tiny voice in the back of his head telling him not to go to school that day. </p><p>He ignored it, as usual, and got dressed. He started to walk to the kitchen for breakfast when he heard his parents talking and paused. The voice in his head was saying, <i>Don't. Don't go in there. Leave.</i></p><p>When it came to his parents, he generally gave in to the voice and did what it said to do, especially after <i>that</i> day. So instead of grabbing some breakfast, he turned his back to the kitchen and walked out the door, his stomach growling at him the entire walk to school. </p><p>School, just like the start of his day, had been fairly normal during the first half. Until third period, that is, when his history teacher decided to give them all a pop quiz worth a good amount of their grade. </p><p>He was sure that he did alright on it, but that didn't stop the thoughts from coming the second he left the class. </p><p>
  <i>You did bad.</i>
</p><p><i>You failed</i>. </p><p>
  <i>You're going to flunk the class</i>
</p><p><i>F, F, F, F</i>. </p><p>He tried his hardest to shake them off as he went through the next two periods, but they just wouldn't let up, only getting worse and worse and more insistent as the day went on. </p><p>His stomach started to ache as a ball of anxiety grew steadily in his chest while he walked through the halls, every glance another student or a teacher threw his way only making the thoughts increase. </p><p>
  <i>They were talking about you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They were making fun of you.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>They're laughing at you right now.</i>
</p><p>Alex didn't know why the storm was being so brutal that day, but he couldn't stop it as it continued to cause destruction in every corner of his head, leaving nothing untouched. Everything anyone said to him only made the storm fiercer, every glance given to him breaking down another area of his mind. </p><p>He was only <i>halfway</i> through the school day, and it had already felt like centuries had passed. He still had lunch and three other classes to get through, and after that he and the band were practicing too. </p><p>At least that was a relief. Even though all he wanted to do was go home and fall asleep, he knew that the guys would help the anxiety ease up, even if it was only a little bit. They always did. </p><p>Walking into math, he had to hold back a groan when he saw someone sitting in his seat. He hated confrontation in general, but for some reason, he just knew that this was going to be bad. And the voice agreed, never shutting up as he slowly trudged towards the guy sitting where Alex was supposed to sit. </p><p><i>Stop!</i> The thoughts screamed at him. <i>Don't!</i></p><p>He tried to ignore them and moved to stand in front of the kid, clutching his math book closer to his chest when he looked up from the floor to stare at him. </p><p>"Uh, you're… you're in my seat," He eventually managed to get out after a moment of silence, waiting in anticipation for an answer. </p><p>The kid shrugged, moving to stand up. "Sorry man," He said, walking away, and Alex couldn't hold back a sigh of relief. </p><p>He wasn't sure what he or the voice thought was going to happen, but it definitely wasn't that. Even though it was over and easy enough, he couldn't control the way his hands shook and the ball of anxiety in his chest doubled in size. What the hell was happening?</p><p>Lunch after that was fairly easy. He remained silent mostly, chiming in to the conversation every once in a while to keep them from worrying about him. He figured that the little voice in his head carried enough worries for all of them combined. </p><p>Out of all the classes that day, the last one really was the worst. </p><p>Alex wouldn't say that he was the smartest person around, and his parents would agree, but he always kept his grades up, earning mostly B's and A's with the exception of a few C's. So you can imagine his surprise when he was handed his grades at the end of the day in that last class, mostly C's and not a single A in view. </p><p>He could feel the disappointment radiating off of his teacher as he handed it to him, and could almost hear the way that his parents were going to yell so loudly when he got home that his ears would ring for hours. </p><p>The ball of anxiety in his chest tripled in size this time, and his hands shook as he slid the paper into his backpack, stumbling out of his seat as the bell rang and slinging it over his shoulder. </p><p>He doesn't really remember the walk back to his house. All he knows is that it had started raining, making the voice go on and on about how his papers were getting ruined, before he walked into the house, soaked in water. </p><p>He just stood on the doormat, dripping onto the floor when his mom walked up to him, crossing her arms. </p><p>"Take your shoes off you're dripping onto the floor," She said, and he obeyed silently, sliding them off his feet and opening the door to place them in the front porch before closing it again, looking back up to her. </p><p>"Look at you, your papers are probably ruined," She gestured to his bag, echoing the voice in his head almost perfectly, she sighed when he tilted his head down dejectedly, unable to do much else. "Weren't you supposed to get your grades today?" She asked, and he froze. Noticing his change in posture, she straightened her back, speaking a little louder. "I'd like to see those please." </p><p>He didn't say anything, only slid his backpack off of his shoulder and pulled out the paper with a shaky hand, cursing the way that the ink had stayed intact even through the rain and handed it to her. </p><p>She eyed it carefully, humming her disapproval before handing it back to him, weirdly silent. </p><p>She never would have done something like this before he came out. She never would have done something that purposely made him nervous, never would have looked so, so disappointed in him. </p><p>She moved her arms to cross them over her chest once again before she spoke. "Go show it to your father. He's in the kitchen." </p><p>He nodded even though his hands increased in their shaking and it started to get hard to breath correctly. It was also so hot, the collar of his shirt cutting into his throat feeling as if it was stopping air from getting to his lungs. </p><p>He ignored it as best he could and stumbled a little as he walked in the direction she pointed, seeing his father sitting in a chair at the head of the kitchen table, reading a newspaper while he sipped at his coffee.</p><p>He paused at the sight, clenching his free hand into a nervous fist before unclenching it when his nails started to dig too harshly into his palms. He took a step forward, making the floor creak, and winced when his dad looked up from his paper to him. </p><p>He shuffled forward, not saying a word as he held out the paper which was immediately snatched out of his hands. </p><p>Alex really didn't remember what happened in the ten minutes between him walking up to his father and him walking to his room, tears running down his face steadily while his shoulder ached. </p><p>He ended up falling asleep the second he collapsed into his bed, head buried in his pillow as he laid on his uninjured side, completely forgetting everything else but the ball of anxiety that continued to grow and the storm in his mind that never calmed. </p><p>When he woke up, the first thing he realized was that the ball of anxiety in his chest hadn't gone away. The second thing he noticed was that the storm in his mind hadn't calmed, at this moment, only spitting out the word <i>late</i> over and over again. </p><p>Alex hadn't even known what the thoughts were talking about as he groggily sat up,, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Late. Late for what? </p><p>After only a moment of blankness, his mind fully came back online, and he whipped his head to the side wall of his room to check the clock when he realized what exactly the voice was talking about. </p><p><i>Band practice</i>. </p><p>"Shit," He whispered quietly under his breath. Practice was supposed to start an hour ago.</p><p>He threw the blanket off of his legs, jumping out of bed and running down the stairs as quietly as he could as to not alert his probably still mad parents. He slipped on his shoes, thankful to see that it hadn't yet rained, and started to walk towards the garage. He would have run, but he was already out of breath for some reason, and he didn't think he would be able to with the anxiety increasing in his chest and the growing pit in his stomach. </p><p>As he walked, the voices were louder than they had been all day. </p><p><i>They hate you</i>. </p><p>
  <i>They're not really your friends.</i>
</p><p><i>They're kicking you out of the band</i>. </p><p><i>Late, late, late, late</i>.</p><p><i>They can't stand you</i>. </p><p><i>You disgust them</i>. </p><p><i>They're talking about you right now</i>.</p><p><i>Late, late, late, late, late</i>. </p><p>The thoughts made him move a little bit faster, and he almost cried when he turned a corner and the garage appeared and the sound of his friends playing reached his ears. </p><p>By the time he reached the closed doors of the garage, he was panting and kind of felt like he was going to die. It felt as if he was taking no air in and the wind that hit his exposed skin felt like fire. Unable to move another inch, he turned his back to the garage doors and leaned against it, sliding down and sitting on the ground with a thump, bringing his knees to his chest and resting his head on them, gasping for air that he just couldn't seem to get. </p><p>A second after his back hit the door with a clang, the music inside the studio quieted down to a stop, and he heard confused voices coming from the inside. He wanted to move, wanted to run off, didn't want his friends to see him like this, but he just couldn't stand up. He couldn't even breathe. </p><p>It only took a second before the door that he wasn't leaning against opened, and suddenly Reggie and Luke were in front of him, putting hands on his shoulders and back and their touch when usually was so comforting felt like <i>fire</i>. He gave a small noise of distress, scooting back from their hands. He would have felt bad for the way that they flinched backwards as if <i>their</i> hands had been set on fire, but he couldn't feel anything but panic as his lungs refused to take in the oxygen that he needed. He felt like he was going to die. God, he was going to die. </p><p>Alex distantly heard Bobby say something and watched out of the corner of his eye as Luke and Reggie scrambled back at his words, turning to look at him worriedly as Bobby came to sit in front of him. </p><p>"Alex," He said, voice firm but soft. "Alex, can you hear me?" </p><p>He managed a small nod, moving one of his hands to pull back the collar of his shirt where it felt like it was closing in on his neck. </p><p>"Can I touch you?" He asked next, and Alex shook his head quickly. "That's okay," He said calmly, and Alex felt the ball in his chest loosen slightly. "Can you breathe with me?" He asked this time, and though the idea of doing so seemed impossible at the time, Alex gave a hesitant nod anyways. "Good, I'm gonna count as I breathe, breath with me okay?" He nodded again, and Bobby started to count. One to four was breathe in, five to eight was hold, eight to five was breathe out, and four to one was hold. </p><p>He wasn't sure how long the process went on, but eventually, even though he was still a bit shaky, his breathing returned to normal, and he could tell that the storm in his head was starting to clear when he looked up at the boys, each of them looking at him worriedly. </p><p>Luke was the first one to speak after a few moments of silence where they just breathed together. "Are… are you okay?" He asked, immediately wincing at the stupidity of the question. </p><p>Alex just shrugged. "I'm better." </p><p>And that was enough.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you likedddd the next chapter will be out in,,,, a week at most. Probably less. Maybe like, three-ish days? We'll see kfixkxk it's the chapter I'm the least confident about so 😔😔 we'll seee</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Reggie</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>‼️Warnings for this chapter are depressive thoughts, self-deprecating thoughts and implied depressive episode/depression‼️</p><p>Anyways!! Last chapter is here!! Writing this fic (especially the first chapter) was just an entire projection onto these characters JFJDNFNDNDND It started out as me just wanting to write Luke having and dealing with intrusive thoughts and then I decided why not include all the boys in some pain and angst? </p><p>Anyways I hope that you like this chapter!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Even though all of Reggie's thoughts were his own, they were never really all that nice. </p><p>He was good at putting on a happy demeanor, he had been doing so ever since he could remember. And a lot of the time, he actually was happy. It was just his thoughts that were unhappy. </p><p>It was easy to drown them out most of the time, especially when they first started. If the bad thoughts popped up in his head, he would turn on the TV or pick up the book he had been reading to drown them out. If he was desperate enough, he would even do his homework as a distraction. </p><p>Some days it was almost <i>impossible</i> to drown the thoughts out. There were times when it felt like his own brain was <i>screaming</i> at him, begging him to listen, listen to the words they had to say. </p><p>When he was a kid, the voice had started out sounding like his parents. All it was was echoes of the words <i>disappointment</i> and <i>failure</i>, words that he had heard from his mom and dad from a young age that his brain decided to repeat back at him. </p><p>As he got older, though, the voice began to morph into something else, something even more familiar than his parents voice. </p><p>It was his own. </p><p>It was rare that he went a day or even an hour without hearing the thoughts. It felt like it was always there, always in the back of his head, ready to pounce on him the second he was weak. </p><p>The thoughts that his head threw at him varied sometimes, but they always circled back to the same thing. </p><p><i>Failure</i>. </p><p><i>Disappointment</i>. </p><p><i>Useless</i>. </p><p><i>Boring</i>. </p><p><i>Annoying</i>. </p><p><i>Too little</i>.</p><p><i>Too much</i>. </p><p><i>Selfish</i>. </p><p><i>Awful</i>. </p><p>Him. </p><p>It always came down to him. </p><p>Sometimes the thoughts would be a little more complicated, forming full sentences, but most of the time, they were only one word, one heartbreaking word, repeated over and over again in his head until it felt as if it wasn't a real word anymore. </p><p>The full sentences hurt too, talking about his his friends didn't care, about how his family didn't care, about how he was unwanted, but the repeatings of a single word drove him <i>crazy</i> and most days, all he really wanted was for that little voice, his own voice, to shut up. </p><p>Reggie was happy, he wanted to stay happy, and the thoughts were making it so, <i>so</i> hard. He was exhausted. He was so tired. </p><p>The thoughts that he had weren't like Luke's. They weren't thoughts from an unknown place, thoughts that came out of nowhere and made him feel guilty. And they weren't like Alex's. They weren't a swirling storm of anxiety that destroyed everything it could see. His thoughts were just <i>there</i>, constantly there, weighing heavily on his bones and making it hard to just exist. </p><p>On the really bad days, the ones where there was nothing in his head but those thoughts, it was almost impossible to get out of bed. He felt world weary, felt as if he was chained in place, restless, but unable to move all the same. </p><p>One of those days happened for the first time when he was really young and the voice in his head had just changed from his parents voice to his own. He had woken up one Saturday morning, and he just… couldn't get out of bed. </p><p>His parents didn't check on him, too busy with fighting and work, and at that point, he didn't have any close friends available to miss him, so the day went by, swirling around him while he just layed there, million pound weights on every inch of his body.</p><p>He fell asleep later that night, and when he woke up on the next Sunday morning, he got up for breakfast as if the day before hadn't even happened. </p><p>It was easy for him to keep what was in his head to himself. He had quickly learned to hide negative emotions behind a mask from a young age and only let the positive ones show. </p><p>Some days it was hard, but he had it under control. The days where the thoughts weighed so heavily on him that he couldn't get out of bed in the mornings were rare enough that he could forget about them the second after it happened. </p><p>After he had gotten really close to the boys, it had taken a few months before he felt that way again.</p><p>He had woken up on a Wednesday morning in the middle of summer, and was unable to move any of his limbs. </p><p>Reggie knew that he and the boys had planned to practice later that afternoon, but he really couldn't find any motivation to even move, let alone walk to the garage and play for an unknown amount of hours. </p><p>No matter how much he wanted to get up, he just couldn't. He didn't want to disappoint the boys- his heart sunk at only the thought- but the little voice in his head was screaming at him so loudly that his ears rang and he felt as if his bones were solid and made of the heaviest metal in the world. </p><p>Time passed slowly and quickly at the same time. He did nothing except lay in his bed, restless and exhausted at the same time. </p><p><i>Useless!</i> the voice screamed as the clock ticked to the time he was supposed to show up at the studio. <i>Worthless!</i></p><p>He watched as the sun rose then set,, too tired to even attempt to block out the thoughts. He felt as if they were consuming him, taking him over, like one day there would be nothing but the thoughts repeating the same words over and over again, leaving no Reggie left. </p><p>He was so <i>bored</i>. The thoughts took up every space in his mind, leaving no corner unfilled and making him unable to do or think about another else, but that didn't mean that he was <i>entertained</i>. If he didn't know any better, he would say that that was the worst part of days that were like this, days where he couldn't even muster the motivation to get out of bed. </p><p>In reality, he knew what the worst part was. </p><p>
  <i>Failure, failure, failure, failure.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Bad, bad, bad, bad.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Useless, useless, useless, useless.</i>
</p><p>Reggie squeezed his eyes shut, barely able to manage moving one of his hands from under his blanket to push weakly at his skull as if he could throw the thoughts and repeated words right out of his head. </p><p>He didn't know what time it was, but he guessed that it had been about an hour after rehearsal was supposed to start when he heard a single knock at his door. </p><p>He shut his eyes even tighter and turned his face into his pillow to shield it from whoever was now walking into the room. He heard hushed voices in the hallway for a moment before they went silent, one of the people making the floorboards creak as they walked in, shutting the door behind them.</p><p>"Reg?" He heard a voice- Alex- say, and stayed silent. The footsteps slowly started to creep closer, and when he heard them come to a stop beside his bed, he clenched his hand that was under the blanket into a fist, his nails cutting into the palm of his hand. He couldn't even feel it. </p><p>"Do you-" He cut himself off, and he could hear the way he shifted, already imagining the nervous look on his face. "Do you want me to leave?" He finished, and Reggie didn't move. </p><p>He heard a quiet sigh, could almost see a small nod, and listened as footsteps started to move slowly back to the door. </p><p>And no, he didn't want that. He wanted <i>someone</i> to stay with him, preferably one of the guys, so that he didn't feel like he was drowning with no one around to save him. But his throat was closing up as he tried to speak and Alex's back was turned to him so he wouldn't see him even if he could <i>manage</i> to shake his head and he was already opening the door to leave- </p><p>A noise of distress managed to make its way past his lips, and he almost sighed in relief at the way the footsteps stopped moving before they started to walk closer. </p><p>"Okay," He responded to the noise, voice soft, "Do you want me to lay with you?" </p><p>There was about a minute of silence before Reggie was able to flop the arm that was over his head towards Alex, hoping that it would be interpreted as a yes and actually sighing in relief this time when he felt the blanket lift up a little and a body settle beside him, close, but not touching. </p><p>"Do you want me to talk or be quiet?" He asked, and Reggie shrugged a little. Even though he was glad Alex was there and being fantastic as usual, the questions were starting to get exhausting, and all he wanted to do was sleep. </p><p>He buried his face even deeper into the pillow, and Alex, reading him well as always, nodded. "That's okay. You can sleep," He said quietly, and Reggie finally relaxed the clenched hand and sighed once again, eventually falling asleep. </p><p>When he woke up an immeasurable amount of time later, the first sound he heard was Alex humming under his breath from beside him, and he shifted a little to let him know he was awake. </p><p>"Oh, hey. Sorry if I woke you up," He said softly, and Reggie shrugged, moving a little bit easier than it had been in the morning. "Your parents weren't home so the boys made a pizza," He continued, rolling his eyes. "Do you want some tea? I can get them to make you some? They were going to earlier but you were sleepy so I told them to wait." </p><p>Reggie hesitated for a moment before nodding his head forward a little, eyes still shut, and he knew that Alex was giving him a small smile. </p><p>"Okay, I'll go tell them. You think you can meet me down there or should I bring it up here? You don't have to get dressed," He said, and even the idea of just standing sounded impossible, so Reggie just shrugged. "That's okay. I'll give you a few minutes. Be back in a bit if you don't come." </p><p>He listened as Alex walked out and groaned slightly when the door was shut. He didn't really think he was going to be able to stand, let alone walk down the stairs and face two more people, but he was going to try. </p><p>It took a minute or so, but eventually the weights in his body seemed light enough for him to roll over onto his back, and he opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling, completely exhausted from the small movement that should have been easy. </p><p>
  <i>Useless!</i>
</p><p><i>Worthless!</i> </p><p>He squeezed his eyes shut once again, moving his hands from where they were tangled in his blanket to press them into his eyes. God, he was so tired. </p><p>Even though the time that had passed only felt like a minute, it must have been much longer, because the second that Reggie was finally prepared to roll again to get closer to the side of the bed, Alex walked inside the room, a plate with a piece of pizza in one hand and a mug of tea in the other. </p><p>"Hey," He said, smiling at him, and Reggie closed his eyes. </p><p>
  <i>Failure!</i>
</p><p>Alex took a step closer to the bed. "It's okay that you couldn't get up. The boys are making cookies now, maybe when they're done we can both go down and get some? If they don't burn down the house, that is." </p><p>Reggie opened his eyes, looking up at Alex and giving him a weak smile, and he looked at him as if he had just won a million dollars, as if he was so proud of him. He would have cried if he had the energy. </p><p>Alex stepped closer to the bed, placing the plate and the mug on the table next to Reggie. "Do you think you could sit up? You probably wouldn't want to spill tea all over your favorite flannel," He said, gesturing to his shirt, and Reggie shrugged. </p><p>Alex moved to sit next to him on the bed, pushing the blankets to the side and giving him a moment to sit up on his own. </p><p>He struggled for a while before managing to do it, leaning his back against the headboard with an exhausted sigh. Alex's eyes looked a little bit sad when he glanced at him, but he smiled nonetheless, handing him the mug of tea and placing the plate with the pizza slice in the small space between them. </p><p>He held the mug in his hands for a moment, just letting the warmth of the tea seep into them, before taking a sip and letting it warm him from the inside out. It was orange flavored, his favorite. </p><p>He took a few more sips before setting it back down on the desk to grab the plate on his lap instead. He stared at the pizza on it for a moment before picking it up and taking a tiny bite. He chewed for what felt like centuries, but eventually got it down and went in for another one. It was a little burnt, which wasn't surprising since Luke was involved in making it, but he didn't mind too much. Pizza was pizza, and pizza was good. </p><p>He was only able to take a few more bites after the first, though, setting the plate with the half eaten slice on the desk beside him and flopping his head down to rest it on Alex's shoulder. </p><p>Leaning his head to rest against Reggie's, Alex sighed, bumping his foot against his at the end of the bed. They sat in silence for a while before someone started to walk up the stairs and the door creaked open to reveal Luke who sheepishly looked inside the room. </p><p>"Hey," He said, nodding towards Reggie and taking another step into the room, holding his hands behind his back and fiddling his fingers together. "We uh… we burned the cookies." </p><p>He moved a hand to rub at the back of his head, and Alex huffed a laugh, taking his head off of Reggie's to shake it and roll his eyes before turning to him. "I'm going to see how much of a mess they made down there," He said, standing up and squeezing his shoulder lightly before walking out, shutting the door and leaving Luke inside who shifted on his feet nervously while Reggie closed his eyes. </p><p>"Um…" Luke spoke up after a moment, "I'm uh, I'm sorry you're feeling shitty." </p><p>Reggie would've laughed at how much of an understatement that was, but instead he just tilted his head in the direction Luke was standing in and opened his eyes. </p><p>Luke looked nervous, shifting from side to side and almost flinching when Reggie's gaze landed on him, almost as if he was scared he was going to do something wrong. And that really was just so stupid, so Reggie pat the bed beside him, making Luke move forward to sit next to him, knocking their shoulders together. </p><p>"I'm not even sure how we burned them," Luke started, "I mean, we put it in for the amount of time it said on the package of chocolate chips." </p><p>Reggie hummed, forcing out a quiet, "What temp was the oven on." </p><p>Luke seemed surprised to see him speak, but didn't say anything, just continued on with the conversation as if it was a completely normal day. </p><p>"Um, I don't know. We just used whatever it was set at before I guess," He said, the tips of his ears flushing slightly in embarrassment, and Reggie smiled. </p><p>"That's your problem," He replied, tilting his head to lean against Luke's shoulder. </p><p>It didn't take long for the door to open again, this time both Alex and Bobby walking in, Bobby holding a plate of cookies that seemed okay enough to eat. </p><p>"We bring cookies!" Bobby declared with a small laugh as he and Alex stepped closer. </p><p>Both of them settled in the bed across from Luke and Reggie, setting the plate in the middle of all of them, and as Reggie picked up a cookie, surrounded by his friends, he felt like everything just might turn out okay. </p><p>His brain was still yelling at him and repeating hateful words, but the voice was slowly getting quieter and quieter. His bones still felt like they were made of metal, but a lighter metal than before. </p><p>He didn't have his parents, didn't have a nice brain, but he had his boys. </p><p>And they had him.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>And the series is over 😔 I hope you cried reading this as much as I did writing it NDMZJDM</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I ended up splitting this into three chapters just bc why not and all the chapters are already finished and will be posted within the next week or so!! Hope you liked!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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